i have nowhere else to put this, so here i am, back to deeply scream into the void under a readmore. a year-plus of unemployment has not suited me. i am exhausted, desperate, more anxious, more volatile, not myself. i have lost so much during the pandemic — my job, my apartment, my best friend. i am tired. i am so fucking tired.
today i got the news that i didn’t get an internship i really, really wanted. was really suited for, the folks i spoke to clearly liked and were impressed by me. i was so prepared, so knowledgeable. and i didn’t get it. and definitely that on its own is upsetting, but it’s that on top of the constant stream of failure and rejection. and i’m not being picky, i’ve gone out for hourly jobs only to be told a number that’s not livable, only to be told they liked my interview but don’t have a position open right now. (what a waste.) it’s been a year of this, being told i’m somehow not good enough, that i’m “a strong candidate” and it was “a tough decision” (which by the way, only makes us feel fucking worse, because then it’s like what was the tiny deciding factor? what made me inadequate?) but all of it going nowhere. “jobs aren’t everything” right but they ARE, that’s the thing, in the society we live in. i am lucky that i can live at home, but i feel horrible. all the time. i need independence, i need stability, i need to feel like myself, and i have none of that right now. no indication that i will regain any of it, either.
and i can’t talk about it to anyone. because my friends and family don’t know what to fucking do with me. i can tell they don’t. they nod sympathetically and say they’re sorry and tell me it sucks, and i know they do mean it, they want to be there for me, but i also know some part of them is thinking thank god i’m not where she is. they don’t know what to do with me. if they knew the extent of what feels like the fucking gaping hole in my brain and ribcage they would go running. every time i make the conscious decision to even slightly unspool with someone, i regret it, because i get those dead or careful eyes, the sorrys, the “it’ll get better,” and you know what? it hasn’t. it just hasn’t. so i just don’t. because when i do they look like frightened animals, and that just makes me feel fucking worse. i say “it is what it is” and i move on. because that’s all i can do, at this point.
i’m so tired. i don’t feel like myself, i haven’t for a year. i feel like i’ve been playacting a version of myself that is palatable and makes sense to people, when really i am this fucking nightmare creature that is both terrifying and repulsive. i keep looking for reasons to wake up in the morning and honestly, honestly, none of them are enough. i love the people in my life but they’re not enough against this all-encompassing fucking void. this sense that it will never get better, because it hasn’t, so why would it now. it’s just not enough. none of it. none of it.














